Green Eyes of Jealousy
by Francesca the Frisbee
Summary: William Shakespeare coined the term, and now our very own Hedwig is experiencing the feeling for herself. Introducing a whole new love triangle. Actually, it's a bit more like a lopsided polygon with lines protruding from it, but whatever.
1. She can always dream

**A/N: This story is prone to going on long hiatuses (is that even a word?). I have a busy life, and a bit of a procrastination problem, so I'm sorry ahead of time for when that happens. (I'll do my best!)** **If you don't think you can deal with long pauses between chapters, maybe you shouldn't start reading this. I will understand completely. Other than that, please enjoy!**

Hedwig beat her wings against the wild gale in a frivolous attempt to stay on course. Tied to her leg was a letter of record-breaking length, written to Harry by none other than Ginny Weasely. They'd been writing a lot to each other during the two weeks of winter break, always covering at least a page with words of utmost love and devotion. (Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, and Ginny's parents had wanted her home with them).

_This is for Harry_, Hedwig thought as a particularly strong gust of wind threatened to send her spinning away into oblivion. She often thought those words when on difficult deliveries. Sometimes they were the only things that kept her going. She knew…she was positive…she couldn't be more certain that she and Harry were soul mates. Hedwig, with her piercing yellow eyes, could see past the species difference, into the very depths of the boy's soul; she was meant for Harry, and he for her.

Of course, he had yet to realize this, but all in good time. Soon he would realize that each time she nibbled on his ear, she was telling him how much she loved him. Soon he would see that the Weasely girl was simply not the one for him, that their relationship might infringe upon his friendship with Ron, that one way or another, things simply wouldn't work out. Either that, or Ginny would be captured by Lord Voldemort and die a tragically slow and painful death. So sad. It was obvious to Hedwig that somewhere, deep down, Harry had feelings for her. Feelings that went beyond those of any regular schoolboy with an especially trustworthy owl. Feelings of love and—

_Who am I kidding?_ thought Hedwig sadly. _Harry doesn't love me "in that way" and surely never will. He and Ginny are the ones meant for each other and nothing can change that. Nothing can ever change the way I feel about him, though. A she-owl can dream…_

Drat. Lost in thought, she had run into a tree. Stupid tree. How inconsiderate of it! She decided to take a little rest on the branch. As she took in her surroundings, she realized that she had no idea where she was. Snow weighed down the branches of the exceptionally rude pine tree she was sitting in, as well as covered the ground below her.

Hedwig suddenly noticed the deep footprints in the otherwise untouched snow. She stood stock still. If she wasn't much mistaken, she could have sworn she heard murmuring voices…a twig snapped, and suddenly Hedwig gave a wild shriek as she felt a net being thrown over her. But – but – where was the net? She couldn't see it, though she felt it restricting her movement…she must be going senile! Or perhaps she had schizophrenia? She was having both auditory and tactile hallucinations, which she knew from personal experience (don't ask) were possible signs of mental illness.

And no, she most certainly was not on drugs – she'd given up gillyweed long ago!

But then she saw them. Two figures, both masked and one pointing a wand directly at her! She immediately resumed shrieking and flailing her wings. "Aaaak! Let me go! I said, let me go this second! Don't you know how to treat a beautiful snowy owl? Didn't your mother teach you manners? He_llo_-o! I've got do deliver this letter to Harry Potter! PUT ME DOWN!" Still shouting, she dug her talons into the branch as she felt herself being pulled down, away from the tree, and no doubt into a bad situation.

Ignoring her shouts, her two abductors succeeded in grabbing her from her perch and roughly untying the letter from her leg. "Ouch, dat's by beak, you ibbecile! Kidely refraid frob grabbeeg by face ad stob –"

"I wish the ruddy owl would shut up! All it's screeching is going to give me a bloody headache!" Hedwig was interrupted by the voice of the man who had spelled the net over her.

"Nott, if it's bothering you so much, why don't you stun the damn thing?" drawled a woman's voice. _"It"? "Damn thing"? What am I – a plush toy?_ thought Hedwig angrily. She didn't have time to think much longer, for just then, "Nott" decided to make good on his companion's advice and stun her. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was being stuffed unceremoniously into a sack, and having her feathers very rudely rumpled.

When Hedwig first awoke, she didn't open her eyes. She wanted to convince herself that it had all been a dream, that she hadn't just been shanghaied while on her postal delivery, that she hadn't recently been referred to as both "it" and "thing," and that maybe, just possibly, Ginny was not still alive and well. (_Hey, if I'm going to be a wishful thinker, I might as well go all out!_ she thought.) Finally, she slit one eye open, and then the other. The room she was in was so dimly lit that any normal animal could have gone on hoping that they were not, in fact, very, very far from home.

No such luck.

Hedwig silently cursed her night vision as she took in the tiny room she sat caged in. Her prison (as she presently thought of the too-small birdcage she was locked in) sat on top of an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A chilly draft, coming from a dirty, cracked window, sent shivers up her spine, and she noted wistfully that the stone fireplace in the wall opposite her was currently not in use. The only pieces furniture in the room, other than the armchair, were a dusty wooden writing desk and a rickety-looking stool.

Hedwig turned her head when she heard the door open behind her. In walked a tall woman with voluminous, glossy black hair and dark, hooded eyes. She had a sour expression on her face, and was carrying a tray of what looked to Hedwig like roadkill. The owl wondered vaguely what on earth the woman was planning to do with a pile of dead mice and shrews.

"I cannot believe that the Dark Lord is having me carry out such a lowly task!" the witch (Hedwig assumed she was neither a muggle nor a squib) muttered as she walked over to Hedwig's cage and unlatched the door. "Here." She thrust the tray of food in front of the owl's beak expectantly. Hedwig cocked her head, looking at it, rather puzzled. "Well, don't just stand there! Eat up!" the woman snapped, sounding as if she couldn't care less if Hedwig starved to death. Realizing the purpose of the pile of carcasses, she now gazed icily at the woman.

"I catch my own food, thanks."

"Hoot to you, too," replied the witch. Then, after another moment of holding the tray out in front of Hedwig, grumbled "Fine! Go hungry. God knows _I_ don't give a damn," then added in a slightly pained voice, "Good Lord, I'm talking to an owl." She turned to leave, and was just almost out the door when a high, cold voice came from nowhere.

"Ah, Bellatrix, it appears that you have not yet learned to follow instructions." The woman shrieked and whirled around, only to see a tall, skeletal man appear from thin air in a whirl of black robes. She immediately ran up and knelt before him, kissing the hem of his robes.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but the owl, she refused –"

"Bellatrix, I do believe you possess a wand. If one were required to force feed an owl, one could easily accomplish such a task with such a handy instrument. But perhaps you'd forgotten how to use yours. Allow me to demonstrate – _Crucio!_" The wizard, who Hedwig knew could only be Lord Voldemort, held his wand pointed at Bellatrix. She writhed on the floor in pain for a moment, before Voldemort ended the curse and commanded icily, "Now get up. Feed the owl." Shakily, the woman stood. For a moment, Hedwig almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered the woman's disrespect for an owl's eating habits, as well as how it felt to be yanked out of a tree, stunned, stuffed into a sack and forced to live in an inexcusably tiny cage. All feelings of sympathy vanished.

As Bellatrix approached Hedwig, the owl prepared herself to have food brutally shoved down her throat. Instead, though, when the witch pointed her wand at Hedwig and muttered an incantation, Hedwig felt herself go into the most blissful state of mind she had ever experienced. She was no longer locked in a cage in a cold, dark room, with the evil Lord Voldemort and the cruel Bellatirx. No, she was floating…up…somewhere, she didn't care where, and there were nice fluffy pink clouds, and it was warm and pleasant, and – ah! – there was a woman's voice! It was telling her…what was it telling her? "Eat the nice dead mice and shrews. You look hungry, Hedwig, and such a stunningly beautiful owl should never go hungry. Eat the tasty rodents. Go on, eat them."

_Well I…now _that's _a stupid thing to do! Those carcasses are all cold and not freshly killed. But, if you say so…_ Hedwig dug her beak into the rodents that were suddenly conveniently in front of her. She gagged on her first mouthful. _Euuurrgh! That was ghastly! It was cold and old and rancid and…and…I'd like some more!_ Hedwig wasn't sure why, but something was compelling her to continue eating the disgusting food. It just seemed right. She quickly finished the whole plate. She suddenly didn't feel quite so floaty and care-free anymore, and she found herself once again in the cold, unfriendly room with two cold, unfriendly people. She immediately regretted eating the carcasses.

"Hedwig, I suppose you must be wondering why you're being kept here," mused the Dark Lord. At an incredulous look from Bellatrix, he added calmly, "Yes, I can indeed speak to this owl, Bella. As you'll remember, I am an accomplished legilimense. She, too, understands exactly what we say, so you ought to be cautious what you say around her. Now, Hedwig, I'm going to tell you why you're here, because I particularly enjoy gloating to my victims about my perfect plans.

"My plan is fairly simple. We only had to capture you once to obtain secret information. After that, we simply send you back and forth with false correspondence." He paused for a moment, steepling his pale, spindly fingers as he began to pace the floor. A slightly manic grin began to slowly spread across is face. "But what we found was rather unexpected." He paused for a moment, apparently savoring a triumphant thought.

"Did you?" Hedwig prompted.

"Yes. We found a love letter. I was intrigued by the idea that Potter might have a girlfriend. Their pathetic attempts to hide that fact haven't fooled me, and now I have the ultimate proof. The person that matters most in the world to Harry Potter is Ginny Weasely." (Hedwig felt a surge of extreme hatred and jealousy at these words.) "Am I correct in saying that young Potter would go to any lengths to save the girl were she in any sort of danger?"

"Well, yes, but – what's your point?" Hedwig may have been an incredibly beautiful, loyal snowy owl, but she was not particularly good at making inferences.

"My point is, Hedwig, that I hope you are not opposed to sharing, because a certain Ginny Weasley will soon be your new roomie! Mwahahahahaaaa!" Cackling with mirth, the dark lord swept out of the room, leaving Hedwig sitting there, mouth open, emitting odd squeaking noises. She didn't appear pleased.

Not pleased at all.


	2. Perfect Plan

**A/N: Didn't I say there'd be a long wait? Yes, I believe I did. Anyway, I don't really think it matters that much, seeing as no one seems to have read my story. That's okay. I'll just crawl over to this corner and drown myself in tears. But seriously, folks. Would it kill ya to read it? And...possibly...review it? (Yes, I have done what I swore never to do...I begged for reviews. So sue me.)**

**Oh! And since I forgot the disclaimer in the previous chapter...I don't own any of JKR's books, ideas, characters, settings, chipmunks, etc.  
**

Ginny wanted to hit something. She found a wall. She hit it. She didn't feel any better, though her hand was now in a considerable amount of pain. Cursing, she cradled her abused knuckles in her other arm, a scowl on her face.

"What are you staring at?" she asked the snowy owl that was boring a hole through Ginny with her eyes. She recognized the owl to be Hedwig, with whom she was normally on very good terms. Right now, though, Ginny was in a very bad mood. So was the owl, it would seem.

Hedwig, in reply, gave a very soft and scathing "Hoot," ruffled her feathers and turned the other way.

Ginny leaned back against the wall and slumped down to the floor, letting out a wail of despair. What had put the thought into her and Harry's heads that they could correspond with each other? Stupid, really. They could have at least been secretive about their relationship. Despite Ginny's continual protests that she feared neither capture nor the Dark Lord, both of them at once was pushing it. And anyway, it wasn't like she really meant it when she said she didn't care if she were captured and used against Harry – she had only said that so she could be with him, the man she loved. And now here she was. Alone in a dark cell with none but a hacked-off owl for company. Such were the consequences for trying to be noble and not thinking things through properly.

Ginny started to cry, though she wanted desperately not to. Hot tears slid down her flushed cheeks. She wiped them away, leaving wet streaks across her face, but they continued to fall.

At that moment, she heard a key scrape in the lock on the door. The door opened, and in walked none other than Albus Dumbledore. "Ginny, child, wipe away those tears. It's me, Professor Dumbledore. I faked my own death with the help of Professor Snape, and I've come to take you away," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Actually, that's not what really happened, though it would have made a very pleasant surprise. Who walked into the room was a decidedly nastier person than Professor Dumbledore. It was a certain, smarmy, blonde git who sneered far too often.

"Oh, look, the Weaslette is crying," he sneered.

"No, I just got a bit of dust in my eyes," she said, her voice an octave higher than normal.

"Do you miss Potty, Weaslette?"

She forgot for a moment that she was wallowing in self pity and snapped, "Shut it, Malfoy, or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

"How's that?" He smirked.

"My fists. Your face. Severe bodily harm on your part. Need I say more? Depriving me of a wand doesn't make me any less angry, Malfoy." The boy hesitated a moment, then smirked again for good measure. He had a wand, as well as the Dark Lord, on his side. The girl wouldn't dare lay a finger on him.

"Why are you here, anyway?" she spat. "Have they sent you to throw your pathetic little insults at me?"

Malfoy sneered. "I've been sent on a much more important mission." He brushed some nonexistent dust off his shoulder. "I'm here to send a letter to--"

At this there was an indignant squawk from somewhere behind him. Hedwig was quite obviously saying, "I'd rather live on those rotten rodent carcasses than send a letter for the likes of you!"

"That could be arranged. But I'm not finished. I am here to send a letter to Harry Potter. You will send it, whether you like it or not. If, worst case scenario, you refuse to cooperate, we could easily imperious you to do the job. However, we'd rather not risk addling that _highly intelligent_ brain of yours."

_Oh, great,_ thought Hedwig, _he's going for flattery. How did they know I'm such a sucker for that kind of thing?_

"Why me?" she wanted to know.

"If we send the letter to Harry with an unfamiliar owl, he will no doubt be suspicious. If you choose to perform this task, the Dark Lord would be more than willing to compensate you. You are a very useful asset to the Dark Side, whether or not you mean to be. You will be granted any favor, within reason, if you choose to do this task willingly. If you put up a fight, we will readily use more painful means of making you do it than the Imperious curse." He paused, letting this last sentence sink in. "So what do you choose?"

Hedwig hesitated. "First tell me what's in it."

"What's in what?"

"The letter, you twit!"

Malfoy was slightly taken aback. "That's not part of the bargain, Hedwig. We're making you a nearly unrefusable offer. What do you choose?"

Hedwig glanced at Ginny, who was looking at Draco Malfoy as though he had gone round the bend. To her it must have looked as if he were holding an extremely one-sided conversation with an owl. Of course, that was because he was using legilimency to understand Hedwig, but Ginny didn't know that.

"How can I trust you to come through with your promise? Under normal circumstances, I'd sooner trust a lying sack of muck!" (Hedwig actually doubted this was true, because she was quite sure there was no such thing as a lying sack of muck, as sacks of muck can't talk, much less lie.)

"You aren't exactly in a position to question the Dark Lord's integrity."

"_Which is bugger all, from what I can tell_," Hedwig muttered not-quite-inaudibly.

"The way I see it, owl, is that you have two options: either cooperate and more than likely be rewarded, or don't cooperate and end up doing exactly what you _didn't_ want to do against your will anyways." Hedwig shifted her weight uncomfortably. The human had a point.

"Alright, alright! Just -- give me a minute to think of a request!" Truthfully, the first thing that had jumped to her mind when given the possibility of a reward was the slow and painful death of a certain pretty redhead. But murderous plots were especially difficult when the person to whom the murderous thoughts pertain is sitting innocently in the room with you. Too bad Hedwig had a heart.

Hedwig thought. What asset would help her to woo Harry yet still maintain a decent reputation? And then it hit her. It was simple. It was ingenious.

It was perfect.

"Malfoy…make me a woman!"


End file.
